


Storm - Mitchell/Rem Dogg

by CurlyCarla



Category: Bad Education (UK TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-20 00:48:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2409017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CurlyCarla/pseuds/CurlyCarla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, it turns out, Mitchell is terrified of storms...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storm - Mitchell/Rem Dogg

The form K classroom was oddly quiet, since it only contained Mitchell, Rem Dogg and Alfie. Normally this would warrant a lot of noise, but a stern Pickwell was stood just outside the door. Alfie had been forced by Pickwell to put the boys in detention after a video was leaked of her talking to her stuffed owl to YouTube under the username WheelzNGypsy. Alfie had watched the video, plus other sneakily filmed embarrassing footage, and he personally found it hilarious. But Isobel did not agree. So here they were, Alfie as much in detention as the boys.

About 10 minutes into the detention, Fraser appeared at the door, inexplicably dressed in nothing but neon green. Before he even opened his mouth, he was harshly shushed by Pickwell. He looked to Alfie through the open door, who shrugged and mimed shooting himself in the head. 

“Um, sorry Isobanter, but there’s a staff meeting. For all staff.”

“If you swear on your testicles that you will never call me that again, I will attend.”

“Done.” Said Fraser, casually shielding his private parts with his hands.

“Come along Wickers.” Ordered Pickwell, making to stride off to the staff room.

“What about the boys?” asked Alfie, gesturing to the two, who looked like they were already planning their escape, which, knowing Mitchell, probably involved throwing Remmie’s chair through a window, with or without Rem Dogg in it.

“Oh, just lock the door Wickers, we won’t be long.” Pickwell said dismissively. 

As soon as the door clicked shut, Mitchell’s voice box magically came to life again. 

“Did Dickers just lock us in here?” Mitchell asked, disbelievingly.

“Maybe he faked it so we could make a run for it.” Remmie said hopefully.

“I’d like to see you make a run for it.” 

Rem Dogg scowled at him, flipping him off. Mitchell grinned briefly, before he got distracted by the view through the window. 

“Shit, look at the sky.”

Dark grey storm clouds had consumed the sky which had been blue that morning. Slowly, the windows were speckled with drizzle, before there was a great flash of lightning, and it started tipping it down. Seconds later, a huge rumble of thunder sounded. Mitchell’s face drained, and he renewed his efforts to open the door. It didn’t budge. 

Rem Dogg watched Mitchell frantically try to open the door.

“Dude, you alright? You look like you’ve seen Alfie in a bikini.”

“I just need to get home, that’s all.”

“Why go home, when your home can come to you.” Rem Dogg’s grin changed to a look of concern as Mitchell didn’t react.

“Mitch, what’s wrong?”

Mitchell slumped against the locked door, sliding to the floor as another strike of lightning lit up the sky and classroom. “Storms.” He muttered. 

“Oh...” Rem Dogg’s face filled with an air of realisation. “Is that why, y’know, last month when we were playing on your Xbox, and there was that storm and-”

“Yeah. That’s why you had to leave. Because I don’t want you to see what I’m like during storms. I’d never hear the end of it.”

“Nah mate, trust me. I know what it’s like; I have the same thing with small spaces. Lifts are a bitch.” Rem Dogg grinned, but inwardly shuddered at the thought.

“Is that why you never talk when you’re in one?”

“Yeah.” Rem Dogg answered, nodding.

“Oh.”

“It’s kind of my coping mechanism. Just staying silent until it’s over, y’know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I guess. I have a different one though.”

“Oh yeah? What is it?”

“It’s so embarrassing though.”

“Come on, honesty hour. Spill.” Rem Dogg wheeled over to where Mitchell was slumped, manoeuvring so he was sat next to him.

“I build a fort of my bed stuff.”

“Good idea.” He saw Mitchell jump as a third bolt of lightning and roll of thunder made themselves known. “Let’s make a fort. We’ll use the tables.”

... ... ... 

Roughly half an hour later, the storm in full swing, Mitchell and Rem Dogg were safely hidden behind a barricade of tables, chairs acting as a second defence around the outside.

“You feeling better now?” Rem Dogg asked Mitchell, a smile on his face.

“Yeah. Since I can’t see it. And stuff.” 

“Y’know, I have another way I could distract you.” Rem Dogg said thoughtfully.

Mitchell looked up at him from where he was crouched on the floor, arms wrapped around his knees. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Stand up.” 

Mitchell got up, looking a mix of confused and curious. 

“Do you need a hug?” Rem Dogg asked, his arms stretched out. 

Mitchell froze for a few seconds, before nodding cautiously, and shuffling towards Remmie in the small space they had allowed themselves in their fort. The thunder outside rumbled loudly, the storm not seeming to cease, and the sound shocked Mitchell into hastily sitting in Remmie’s lap and clinging to him. 

Rem Dogg wrapped his arms around Mitchell, rubbing his thumb in small circles on his hip. He could feel Mitchell trembling beneath him, his breath frantically puffing on his shoulder.

“Hey, hey, hey, calm down. It’s alright, I’ve got you.” Rem Dogg murmured into Mitchell’s ear, holding him tighter.

“I can’t. I can’t calm down. I can’t.” Mitchell choked, sitting back slightly. His eyes were streaming with tears, his face was blotchy, both white from fear and red from crying. Rem Dogg removed his hands from Mitchell’s hips to cup his face, stroking his cheek with his thumb, looking into his eyes.

“You’ll be okay Mitchell, okay? Everything’s fine.” Mitchell looked down, tears still falling from his eyes. “Mitchell, I-” Rem Dogg decided not to speak, and instead bought Mitchell’s face closer to his own, pressing his lips to his sweetly, pressing lots of little kisses to the outline of lips, his cheeks, tasting the salty tang of his tears. He returned to his lips, deepening the kiss, trying his hardest to distract Mitchell from the storm. His hands ran softly through Mitchell’s hair, bringing his face closer to his. Rem Dogg felt Mitchell’s hands wrap around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. 

 

Alfie returned an hour later to find a barricade of tables shielding a sleeping Remmie and Mitchell from the pale, watery sun shining through the window.


End file.
